


Where The Heart Is

by Moorishflower



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-06
Updated: 2010-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-11 17:11:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moorishflower/pseuds/Moorishflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here are two things that Castiel doesn't know: how to take comfort, and how to find where you belong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where The Heart Is

  
At some point during the whole Team Free Will debacle, Gabriel makes an oblique reference to Dean being the little spoon in the Winchester relationship. He's willing to admit it's hardly his classiest moment, nor is it him at his most inventive - the rallying cry of "but we're brothers" has resounded throughout many a motel and bed and breakfast before, so he's sure that Sam and Dean have heard Gabriel's insult (and a thousand different variations on it) many, many times before. True to form, Dean scowls at him and Sam shakes his head, but neither of them gets terribly upset. Dean's masculinity is secure, and Sam's probably just glad that Gabriel hasn't turned him into a car again.

What's interesting, though, is Castiel's reaction. Castiel performs that bizarre _head-tilt_ that so many of their brothers and sisters have adopted, like when they were getting briefed on how to emote like humans the only example they had for "how to look questioning" was a picture of a confused Labrador. It's an expression that implies both a desire for clarification and a particular brand of naiveté that Gabriel has come to associate (in particular, at least) with his less worldly siblings. And at first Gabriel doesn't think that much about it - it's just Castiel being _Castiel_, not knowing that Gabriel's joke about the Winchesters and their bizarre pseudo-incestuous relationship is funny, possibly not knowing about said relationship at _all_. Of course he's confused, because Castiel has practically no earthly experience and Gabriel has _heaps_ of it.

But then Gabriel considers the fact that Castiel has been keeping an eye on the Winchesters for far longer than any other angel in his garrison. He had been assigned to Dean Winchester long ago, has watched the man grow up, has explored his dreams, and has even soothed his nightmares on occasion. You don't do all that, and much, much more, without getting to know a person. Not just Dean's hopes and aspirations, mind, but actual events, actual moments in the guy's life. Castiel has probably seen them all. He should _know_ how close the brothers are. Unhealthily, sometimes, yes. Castiel should know.

Which means it's something else. Some other part of Gabriel's joke that Castiel doesn't get.

He assumes that it's the whole "why is incest funny" stance and leaves it at that.

~

Except he can't just _leave it at that_, because it _keeps happening_.

The Winchesters argue a lot. This isn't new or unusual - what's new is that now, occasionally, they drag Gabriel into it. And Gabriel doesn't mind, truthfully. He's millions of years old, and there isn't an argument in the world that he hasn't heard yet. He likes verbal jousting as much as the next faux-pagan god (especially considering how many arguments the pagan gods had gotten into), and he's always happy to point out when one or both of the Winchesters are being idiots. He usually takes one of two routes: either inciting them to further heights of rage and tin-hattery, or else (depending on how he's feeling) cutting off their argument before it can even truly get started and telling them to hug it out.

And, inevitably, whenever Gabriel chooses that second route, Castiel looks _confused_. That same doe-eyed expression, that same slightly tilted head. It's weird and slightly maddening, because Gabriel just can't figure out what _confuses_ him so much.

Until, rather abruptly, it hits him.

~

"So, which do you prefer? Fucking or cuddling?"

Castiel stares. He tilts his head slightly, but doesn't respond immediately. That's all right, Gabriel can be patient. He's waited out wars before, he can outlast his little brother. Sure enough, after several long minutes of silence, Castiel glances away, and says, "I don't understand."

Which is bullshit, because Castiel hangs out with Dean Winchester. If he hasn't figured out what fucking is by now, he _never_ will.

"Which part?' Gabriel demands. "Because I _know_ you're aware of what sex is."

"The creation of life is one of our Father's greatest and most beautiful…"

Gabriel holds up a hand to stave off the preaching. "Save the speech, little bro." If it wasn't the sex, then, it was the cuddling. Which makes every "big spoon, little spoon" joke Gabriel's ever made at the Winchesters' expense…well, he still enjoyed making them. But still, _seriously_? Castiel obviously isn't the most touchy-feely person, but he's been shambling around in that empty vessel for months, now, and apparently he's never once considered the merits of physical comfort.

"Has anyone ever even given you a hug before?"

Castiel frowns like he's just been asked something scandalous. "I have no need of physical stimulus."

"I'm not talking about _stimulus_, Castiel. Just touching. No sex, no kissing, no nudity. Just being close to someone. Have you ever even given it a try?"

Castiel doesn't say anything, just quietly scuffs one foot against the ground. Gabriel cocks his head - outside, he can hear the Winchesters approaching their motel room, bickering as they walk. They have Chinese food with them. Gabriel could go for some fried rice, but he's not going to get any if Dean walks in and finds him pestering his BFF Castiel.

And Gabriel doesn't feel like conjuring up his own food. Far better, and far tastier, to mooch off of someone else.

"We're going to have a talk," Gabriel says, just as Sam pushes open the door. "Later."

"Talk about what?" Sam is carrying a brown paper bag, the bottom spotted with grease stains. Dean looks hostile, as he always does whenever he and Gabriel are in the same room.

Gabriel opens his mouth and prepares to lie.

"Our Father," Castiel says solemnly. Gabriel shuts his mouth and stares at him. "Gabriel is still skeptical of my search."

"That's not surprising." Dean snorts, and then reaches around his brother, rummaging through the brown paper bag while Sam protests wildly but does nothing to stop him. He pulls out an egg roll and takes a huge bite of it. Suddenly, Gabriel doesn't feel like Chinese food anymore.

He just wants to pull Castiel aside and ask why _he_ lied when he could have left it to Gabriel.

~

The Winchesters fall asleep, Sam sprawled with his arms and legs flung in every direction and Dean with his knees curled up towards his chest, his head hung low on the pillow like he's trying to ward off blows, or trying to keep himself hidden. They both have nightmares (some worse than others), and Gabriel leaves them to it, uncomfortably aware of the fact that he _could_ help, if he wanted to. He could give them seven whole hours, nightmare-free, could give them sweeter dreams than they would ever come up with on their own, could give them _rest_. He could, but he doesn't. He's not that kind of angel.

Outside, Castiel stands in the motel parking lot, looking up at the moon. Gabriel shuts the door behind him, closing off the smell of fried rice and orange chicken, gun oil and sweat. It's a beautiful night. The moon bathes Castiel in soft light – if Gabriel squints in just the right way, he can see Castiel's wings, carefully tucked up and set apart from his human vessel, battered and worn. Gabriel winces to see them, and turns his face away until he's sure that all he'll be returning his gaze to is that old trench coat, and Castiel's vessel. Not the extraordinary being it cradles within itself.

"Nice night." Gabriel comes to a slow stop next to Castiel, absently shoving his hands into his pockets.

"All nights are pleasant to look upon," Castiel says softly. "For they were all created by our Father."

"You keep telling yourself that." Gabriel edges closer, until their shoulders touch. Castiel isn't radiating as much heat as he should. Here, finally, is something that Gabriel _wants_ to fix…but he can't.

"…You wished to speak with me, earlier. Now there is time, and we are alone. Speak."

Gabriel studies Castiel's face, the curve of his jaw. He'll never be a day older than this, if he manages to keep himself from Falling. He'll never get wrinkles, his skin will always be firm and free of scars, his body will always function precisely as it should. Gabriel thinks about his own vessel, molded from clay and blood, thousands of years old. Pagan. Its time is almost up.

"This is seriously all you're going to do? Search for God? Even though you know it's a pipe dream?"

"It is not," Castiel says mildly. "He is out there, and I will find Him."

Gabriel pulls one hand from his pocket, runs it back through his hair. "But, in the meantime, you're not going to enjoy yourself at all. You're not going to try and experience what it is you're _rebelling_ for. You're just going to do your duty and hope that Daddy loves you enough to reward you."

"He rewards his faithful."

"_Bullshit_. If God rewarded His faithful, Lucifer would never have wanted to Fall in the first place."

Castiel purses his mouth, pinched and unhappy-looking. Gabriel doesn't like it. Castiel should look solemn, yes, but not _miserable_.

"I'm going to do something," Gabriel says, and then, before Castiel can protest (or, even worse, ask _what_ he's going to do), he slides his arm around Castiel's shoulders and pulls him close. He should be warmer. As it is, he's thin and still and stiff against Gabriel's side, too cold and too worried, not the brother that Gabriel remembers.

"What are you doing?" Castiel demands, and Gabriel shrugs with one shoulder. It's not exactly a hug, but it's…closeness. It's _something_.

"Showing you some of what you're missing," he explains. He squeezes Castiel's shoulder; the muscle there is tense as steel. Slowly, though, the tension eases, and Castiel…doesn't relax, precisely, but it no longer feels like Gabriel is trying to hold a granite column.

"This is what humans do to give each other comfort. Being close, touching…it helps. They don't form connections with each other the way angels do, but they need _some_ way to reassure themselves that they aren't alone."

"I have observed Dean and Sam performing this action," Castiel offers. "Albeit rarely."

"That's because they're idiots. They're worried about giving in. Stupid thing to worry about, if you ask me."

"Ah."

Castiel looks up at the sky. The air is cool, but still – soon, summer will creep closer and the nights will be filled with the buzz of louder insects, not just the soft beat of moth wings that Gabriel can hear now. Soon, the air will be thick and stifling, and the sky will be scudded with heavy clouds, pregnant with rain. Soon.

But for now, everything is calm, and quiet.

Gabriel feels a lukewarm weight settle around his waist. It's more pressure, than anything else. Castiel is the same temperature as the air. His face is turned up towards the sky and he's thinking, but Gabriel doesn't know about what. He doesn't want to know. He just wants things to be the way they _were_.

Castiel's palm cups his hip, gripping. A movement that is more hesitant than it should be. Once upon a time, his brothers and sisters wouldn't have hesitated to speak to him, to touch him. Now, Gabriel is the outcast. They both are.

"I do not know if I want to return," Castiel says. Gabriel doesn't have to ask – they both know where he's talking about.

"Home is where the heart is." It's something Gabriel heard a long time ago. He never placed much credence in it, because angels don't have hearts. But Castiel looks at him like he's just said something huge, something profound and terrifying. Something that could hurt them both.

"Yes." Castiel stares at him for a long, uncomfortable minute. Gabriel wants to look away, but he can't. He doesn't want Castiel to expect anything of him. He isn't the good guy. He isn't here to help. He's just hanging around because he has nothing better to do. "Yes, I believe you are right."

He doesn't say anything more. Just looks up at the dark sky with his arm wrapped around Gabriel's waist. Too cold to be an angel, too still to be anything else.


End file.
